Rock Bottom
by NoteEmmy
Summary: A chance meeting reminds Pegasus that it's finally time to take some responsibility for everything he caused a long time ago.


There was a rather famous bar on a rather famous street that attracted all sorts of rich and famous people. It wasn't exclusive; there was no one to check your ID at the door. It was just an unspoken rule that vagrants were to stay out. It wasn't like they could really afford more than one or two beers, anyway. What would be the point in anyone like them showing up to a ritzy place like this? It was a safe haven from media and paparazzi alike. No reporters and no flashing cameras to catch these people in their drunken escapades. No headlines the next day. It was what was so tantalizing about it.

On a cold Friday night, a usually busy party night for this bar, a sullen, scruffy and unshaven man stumbled into its midst. The patrons hardly recognized him. They barely even really cared to look at him. Nobody cared. No one wanted to care. That was not a job for anyone in the bar. They only cared about their money, their fun, and themselves.

It went unnoticed as that man wandered to the back corner, as far as he could push himself away from this crowd, and beckoned the bartender for a shot. The bartender obliged with the rule that the man had to pay up front. At least someone was watching out. But not for the man's health. Not for his benefit. But for his tab.

Cash was pushed onto the finely waxed wood of the bar and the shot was slid his way. It was downed in an instant and he ordered another. The bartender was skeptical. When the cash was offered, however, he chose not to refuse. Another shot.

This escapade went on for five more shots. Each were paid for in full before being swallowed harshly. It was after the fifth that the man's head went quickly down, drunk now- or at least woozy. The bartender had bet it wouldn't go on very long. He was sure the man had no more money now, and even if he did, he honestly couldn't let such a filthy person sit in this prestigious bar for very much longer. He was tapped out. No one had to care about him anymore.

But someone had to get him **out**. And since the only one who had really noticed him had been the bartender, the man pulled up his pants slightly before nudging the man's shoulder hard. "Ey. Time for you to leave, buddy. You've had your fun."

The man didn't stir in the slightest.

"Come on, I know you can hear me. Get out before I throw you out." He said in a hard tone, trying to sound intimidating. Despite the fact that the man was drunk and dirty, he looked rather well built. If everything else failed, he knew he could have the cops here in less than five minutes. Money paid, after all.

Another hard nudge at least startled the man who seemed to have fallen asleep. He sat away from the bar, hands going to his mouth. It looked for a moment as if he were about to retch, maybe even puke. Instead he unleashed a fury of wild coughing, that even in its loudness, was still overtaken in noise by the giggling and shouting of the rich crowd around him. When his shaking hands pulled from his mouth, they were spattered in blood.

Yet it hardly seemed to have an impact on him. They were wiped on his jeans, and it was then that the bartender recognized that there were darkened splotches all over his pants. Just how long had this been going on...

"Another." The man said in a raspy voice, pushing his cash onto the counter from his pocket.

The bartender looked him over before greed won out and he swiped the money before turning to pour another shot.

"It's party time!" A light and cheery voice announced as the doors to the bar were pushed open. A man with long silver hair and a cheerful red business suit stepped into the bar. "Everyone gets a round on me!" He announced, laughing lightly behind the back of his hand.

In the back of the bar the drunk, dirty man stirred, raising his gaze to the newest patron. Behind his thick sunglasses he could hardly see, but that voice was so familiar to him. Before he could really do anything about it he started coughing once again, this time much harder. It took him a while to recover, and when he finally did, all the energy he had left was given to falling to his knees before collapsing completely on the floor.

The bartender had had his back turned. People stepped around him, stepped over him, and some stepped on him. No one cared about the sick nobody. They were all too busy.

The night went on that way for three more hours. The man hadn't stirred once from his position on the floor. It was then that the older gentleman that had stirred some sort of emotion in this sick and dying individual stood from his spot.

"Oo~ I'm slightly woozy, I think." He giggled and grinned. "I think I should head to the bathroom once, and then I'm done! I promise! No more!"

Another round of laughter filled the air as men and women alike brushed up against him. Someone was even drunk enough to hold up a half-empty beer to him in a gesture of kindness.

"No no, you should know by now that I only drink wine. But thank you~" His words long and drawn out. One step was taken away from the group, a hand to his head. He laughed to himself before straightening up, and walking towards the restrooms.

He wasn't looking where he was going, and a very large object quickly found itself underneath his foot, causing him to fall. A hand went to the wall to brace himself and he looked down. At first he thought someone really must have had too much fun. It really was a rare sight to see an actual patron face down on the floor. But as he leaned closer and inspected the man, turned him over, a shocked sound escaped him.

His body guard was quick to come see what the commotion was. "Pegasus, sir?"

The older man's features softened as he reached down, brushing away a few stray dirty-blond bangs. "I know you..." His eye closed as a dramatic sigh escaped him. "Have you really fallen so hard like this?"

"Pegasus," The bodyguard warned, eyes watching carefully. "He's covered in blood."

Pegasus looked him over. "Indeed he is..." He murmured. It took him a moment but he finally stood up and snapped. "Take him back to the castle. Immediately."

"Sir-"

"No no, I won't hear of it! Do as I say or else!" He threatened in a warbly tone before snickering to himself. He forgot all about his need to use the bathroom as he bid his friends goodbye and stepped into his limousine.

The morning took a long time to come. Luckily Pegasus had had enough sense to not drink himself completely sick, but he had gone a little too far. Watching over the sick man he'd brought home was a task given to the maids for a while. Sleep was hard to catch, and in the end, once the alcohol wore off, he could only find himself tossing and turning. Was it guilt that drove him to restlessness? Even he thought it might have been. Even with his good deed done, he was just unsure of himself.

Most nights were like this. It wasn't in him to question the past so hard. But when you did terrible things once, how could you not?

The sun rose eventually. It went high into the sky before the man stirred in his bed. His eyes opened, still shaded by the black of the lenses he wore. He didn't know where he was. It wasn't an usual feeling. He looked to the side. No woman. So he hadn't even gotten laid last night. What a rip-off.

Come to think of it, he barely even remembered last night.

Sitting up in bed he looked around. The room struck him as vaguely familiar. The feeling turned into eerie familiarity and it was at that terrible time that the door opened.

And stepping into his room was one person he never really wanted to see again in his life. He remembered it now. He remembered hearing that man's voice in the bar. Immediately he drew for his gun, hidden underneath his torn and stained vest. But it was missing.

"_Tch_. S'right. I sold it so I could drink." He muttered to himself. So what to do now?

Nothing, really. Not with the way he was feeling; not even just the headache.

Pegasus walked into the room, getting as close as he would dare. "This is surely a pathetic time in your life." He crossed his arms.

"It's not gonna be much of a life left. And what the hell do you care, bastard. This is all your fault anyway." He growled, standing, but wobbling and reaching for the bed side dresser to give himself some stability.

The one eye he had left lowered in guilt. "Mn. I can see you're very sick. Have you been this sick for a long time?"

"Wouldn't know. Can't afford a doctor. We're not all rich like you." He spat, eyes glowing with hatred even from behind his shades.

"And if you were rich like me, Keith, what would you do with it?" Pegasus mused, looking up, and running a hand through his silken hair.

The past so-called Bandit seemed confused, but he wouldn't be deterred. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind it. Listen, I'm going to help you." He raised a slender finger. "However, in return-"

"I don't need no favors from you!" And with that he charged forward.

Pegasus was not a spritely young man anymore. But even he could easily dodge out of the way of the man's strikes. Three of them were tried to land before Keith fell to the floor in a heap, coughing harshly. More blood came from him, some getting on the carpet. If that was the only thing he could take satisfaction in, that he'd ruined Pegasus' carpets, it would have to do. He wasn't stupid. He knew, he'd known for a long time, that his life was over. And it'd end without any kind of successful revenge.

"In return," Pegasus said again, crouching and even daring to put a hand on the man's shoulder. He was pleasantly surprised and pleased when Keith didn't seem to want to break it. "I want you to duel again. Get back into some tournaments. Work your way up."

Keith was very skeptical of this reprieve. "Right. Sure that's all you want."

Pegasus smiled. "I know it's hard to believe I'm a changed man, but in the end, if I get you medical treatment and some cash, what do you have to lose? You could very easily take it and run off. And I'd be the loser in the end, isn't that right?" He tried to appeal to Keith's underhanded mentality. He, too, used to be one of those people.

"Nn... yeah that's right. So why do it then?" Despite the interest he couldn't blindly do it. Even if he really, desperately wanted to.

The hand was removed as he stood up, pulling on his jacket. "Your condition." He said after a quiet moment. "...it's my fault." The acknowledgement came heavily and he even had to look away. "And someone finally got through to me that debts need to be paid in full."

Keith pulled himself up enough to sit against the dresser, mulling over all of this. He had long since given up. He had long since known his life was going to be over soon, and he'd go out with no one caring, no one knowing, and no one remembering. Even if Pegasus was a creep, and even if this was all Pegasus' fault, even if Pegasus had the surgeon or whoever stick something weird in him... He had to give it a shot. He had nothing left to lose. Rock bottom.

And on the way somewhat up.

"Fine." He gruffed, running a hand against the hard stubble on his face. "But don't expect any favors- especially don't expect anything sexual." He had to add last minute. Pegasus was a weirdo, everyone knew this. And he wasn't about to get himself that far backed into a corner.

The room erupted with laughter. "Come come, now, Keith. You're hardly my type. But perhaps," He said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. "Some Funny Rabbit watching is in order. I know you'll just love it." Keith's immediate groan was met with more laughter, before the door shut behind him.


End file.
